The Mishdi Chronicles

Today, I thought of posting a poem of mine which I wrote years back on Pashupatinath temple, Kathmandu.

I visited Nepal in 2014 and my most memorable moments were with the divine on the banks of river Bagmati where the shrine of Pashupatinath stood tall encompassing every spec of the existing universe.

At one bank, the people assembled to offer prayers to the divine and on the other bank of the river, they gathered on the steps of the temple to burn the bodies of their loved ones. The fumes from the burning pyres and the fumes from the flames of diyas mingled together and rose to the sacred heights where they became one with the Lord Pashupatinath.And here is how I felt at that moment-

Somewhere in the high Himalayas ,

lies a place, so pristine but lonely,

in the banks of River Bagmati,

in deep depths of Kathmandu Valley

With all His ethereal divinity ,

Stands tall, the primordial HE,

Beholding the world, splendid ,

His crested form, embedded in SHE

Across the river, on the cobbled floor,

People gather to sing and explore,

His mystic charm, His heavenly galore,

The bodies burn, beneath His temple door

Galloping life and impending death,

On either side of the river, breathless

Burning pyres with scarlet hue,

Dousing flames, nimbus with dew

He watches the pain with a stoic look,

He glances across the dancing, folks,

How wonderful the death, He knows,

How transient the life, it shows

I stand in awe, shivering and pale,

The sky turns umber, the ashes ablaze,

The river flows quietly, indifferent to cry,

Lies between the banks, the chasm, I sigh

The chants rise, the incense glows,

The camphor, the fire, the prayers of those,

The smell of the burnt, the scent of life,

Blend into one, the inevitable that flows